Kyiv Waldorf School “SOPHIA” (Lyceum No. 14, Kyiv)
Our school was founded—like many Waldorf schools around the world—through the enthusiasm of a group of young people searching for answers to existential questions about human existence, social challenges, and the upbringing of their children. This was the turbulent 1990s, a time when the political, social, and ideological landscape of Europe and the world was rapidly changing. As a result of this search, the first Waldorf kindergarten group opened its doors in 1997, and the first Waldorf class in 1999.
Today, our school is the largest Waldorf school in Ukraine. Before the war, we had 20 classes (two parallel classes from Grades 1 to 10) and more than 450 students. We moved into a larger building and planned its repair and reconstruction. Although it had once been a functioning school with a cafeteria, sports hall, and assembly hall, the building was old, Soviet-era, and neglected. We prepared designs, sketches, and calculations; we dreamed, planned, and worked.
The war destroyed not only our plans, but the plans of all Ukrainians: death, separation from loved ones, abandoned homes, and destroyed cities.
In the first days of the war, everyone was confused and frightened, yet still hoped that everything would end quickly. Such a war seemed impossible in a civilized society that remembered the consequences of World War II and had access to information through modern technologies. We believed in dialogue. Families left briefly—for summer houses, relatives, Western Ukraine, or abroad—expecting to wait a short time and then return. But not everything went according to plan.
After the liberation of the Kyiv region, the city slowly began to revive. People gradually came to their senses and started to act, because life had to go on. Families looked for ways to continue their children’s education, knowing that nothing heals better than a return to a familiar rhythm of life. The teachers’ strength lay in pedagogy. Meeting regularly online, the Teachers’ College read Rudolf Steiner’s works and studied Ukrainian history, searching for answers to difficult questions: Why is this happening? What should we do next?
Two months after the full-scale invasion of Ukraine, the school resumed its work online. Teachers supported their students with regular lessons and individual consultations, especially for those who found themselves abroad in schools where instruction was in a foreign language. Even Zoom meetings—to talk and share experiences, fears, and small joys—were deeply meaningful.
In September 2022, the school resumed in-person teaching, welcoming both returning and new students with joy. Under the circumstances, this was the best possible outcome. Standing together in a circle—sadly reduced to one third of its former size (as of September 1, 2022, only about 120 students and one third of our teachers remained)—we welcomed first-graders and sang our favorite songs together.
The school continues to live.
We renovated the school basement, which now serves as a shelter during air raids. These facilities are far from ideal, but they allow us to maintain the rhythm of the school day: when we go down to the shelter, lessons continue.
We strive to preserve the rhythm of school life: scheduled lessons (when they are not interrupted by morning air raids that halt public transportation), student projects and practical work, hikes, trips to safe places in Ukraine, school festivals, welcoming first-year students, and celebrating graduates.
The school experiences both joy and sorrow. Our parents and graduates are at war; some parents have lost their jobs due to economic hardship. Teachers are exhausted—after nights without proper sleep because of air raid alarms, it is difficult to be energetic and strong at 8 a.m. Students carry psychological trauma, even when it is not immediately visible.
As a community, we have mourned the death of our colleague’s husband, the father of three daughters who are our students. We cried over the death of the young and open-hearted man, our ex-student who died rescuing people on the front line. We waited, searched, and prayed for one of our graduates who spent more than two and a half years in a Russian prison and returned physically and psychologically wounded. Together with parents, we repaired school windows and doors damaged by blast waves. We celebrated Christmas in the school basement while an air raid alert lasted more than five hours.
Yet it is the sense of community that gives us strength. We do everything possible to ensure that our children feel safe, continue their education, enjoy their school years, and remain healthy.
Throughout these years of terrible war, we have felt the support of friends and colleagues. We have received—and continue to receive—tremendous help from Freunde der Erziehungskunst Rudolf Steiners. We are also supported by colleagues from Waldorf schools and Christian communities in Germany (Berlin and Darmstadt), who assist with educational projects for our senior students.
The school is gradually growing again, overcoming both external and internal challenges. We rejoice in every student and teacher who returns to Ukraine and to our school. We welcome every family that discovers Waldorf education and joins our community. We are grateful for every donation we receive.
Today, about 250 students are studying at our school.
We understand that people in Europe and around the world are tired of hearing about the war. But closing one’s ears or eyes does not make it disappear. Daily air raid alarms, lack of heat and electricity, constant danger, the loss of friends and relatives, and families torn apart by war—this is our everyday reality.
Someone once said: Where there is a school, there is a future.
We are working so that our children have a school and a future.
We are working so that our country has a future.
Olena Mezentseva
Website: https://www.sofia.school/
Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/KyivSophiaWaldorf